


Fire + Ice + Truth

by slightly_ajar



Series: Stable AU [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Discussions of PTSD, Discussions of Past Abuse, Fluff, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Stable AU, dad!Jack, teen!Mac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-06-28 04:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19804858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar
Summary: Jack is called into see Mac’s principal, has to deal with an issue he never expected to face and uncovers the heart-breaking reasons behind it.Chapter 2 added: The wee small hours of the morning find Mac and Jack both awake; they discuss recent events, and older ones, Mac fixes something and Jack might just change a long held opinion.Chapter 3 added: Life starts to go back to normal but Mac has another confrontation to face and Jack struggles to deal with everything he knows.set in dickgrysvn'sStablehands + Stable Homes AUand alongside violetvaria’sStable AU





	1. Fire + Ice + Truth

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to dickgrysvn for allowing me to write something in the AU she created and massive, massive amounts of love and appreciation to violetvaria for being so open to someone muscling in on characters she has spent so much time creating lovely stories for and for being so kind and encouraging.

Jack had been to the principal’s office more than once when he was in school. He hadn’t been a bad kid, just spirited; some might say mischievous. His momma had said he was a _“damn fool who acted like he didn’t have the sense God gave a June bug,”_ but she hadn’t always understood the subtlety of his sense of humour. Everyone had laughed at the Halloween prank with the skeleton when they’d stopped screaming, and he did those frogs from the science labs a favour - they were going to be dissected. He was a hero for setting them free. The amphibian population of his town had tripled after his little stunt, and Jack still felt like he had contributed to the local ecosystem. 

He had been to Mac’s school once after he’d officially adopted him to fill out paperwork and meet the principal, and he’d expected he’d be back again before too long for lots of reasons, all of which would be good. Like Mac wining an academic award. Like Mac winning _all_ the academic awards because he was so brilliant. Jack planned to take a selfie with his boy on each of those occasions and send it to his mom with the caption, ‘Look at me now, Ma!’ 

He wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans and read the posters on the wall again (“We may be different fish but in this school we swim together.” “TEAM – Together We Achieve More.” “Hard work is a two-way street, you get back exactly what you put in.”) He had never expected to be called in to see Mac’s principal because his son had been in a fight. 

Chattering voices and the footfalls of dozens of sneaker-clad feet echoed through the corridor beside the office. High school sounded the same as it had when he’d been a student. It smelled the same too - a mixture of rubber soles, cafeteria food and hormonal awakenings. Jack tried not to tug at his collar. It had been years - okay – decades - since he’d been in education, but being surrounded by the sensations of his own high-school days while being outside the principal’s office had the back of his neck prickling like he was the one in trouble. The memories of his anxiety and his mom’s yells of, _“Jacky, what have you done now?”_ were strong and uncomfortable to recall.

“Mr Dalton?” 

Dr Albright, the principal, stood by her office door with Mac behind her. Mac was slouching like he was trying to make himself seem smaller with his arms wrapped around himself, fists freshly adorned with bruised knuckles gripping his sleeves. Wary eyes, one of them blackened, looked resolutely down at his feet, and Jack spotted a bruise spreading out from his jaw up towards his lip. 

“Ah, kiddo,” Jack whispered under his breath. 

“Mr Dalton, Mac has been suspended for the rest of the week for his part in the fight. We do not tolerate violence in this school. Since it’s the first time your son has been involved in a situation like this, I’m not going to put it on his permanent record, but I will not be able to be so lenient in the event of further incidents.” 

“I understand, thank you.” Jack beckoned to Mac. “Let’s go home, buddy.” 

  


Mac was as far away from Jack as he could possibly be while managing to stay in the same car. He was pressed against the passenger side door, turning a pen over and over with restless fingers. 

“So,” Jack said into the silence that had buzzed with tension since they’d left Dr Albright’s office, “would you like to tell me what happened?” 

“Donnie Sandoz was giving Bozer a hard time,” Mac said without looking up. 

“Donnie Sandoz? Isn’t he in the grade above you? Big kid, looks like a pro wrestler had a baby with a bullfrog?” That joke earned him a small twitch of a smile. 

“He is. He was being a jerk and picking on Bozer. Bozer was ignoring him and he started to walk away when Donnie grabbed his arm and called him a…” Mac looked at Jack, his eyebrows raised as he willed him to understand, “…you know. A bad name, I don’t want to say it.” 

“Ah.” Understanding dawned, followed quickly by outrage. “He called him…?!” 

Jack made a mental note to call Bozer’s mom later to see if he was okay. Then he made a note to call Donnie’s parents to talk to them about their son’s manners. 

“So I told him to let go of Bozer. He didn’t. Then we got in a fight.” 

“Okay,” Jack said, digesting this. “Okay. Does the principal know what Donnie did?” 

“She does, he’s in more trouble than me.” 

“Okay. Good. Okay.” Jack couldn’t stop repeating himself. Nothing about what happened was okay and he didn’t know how to start dealing with any of it. “You were defending your friend and I can’t be mad at you for that,” he said. “It’s important for good folk to stand up to people like Donnie and I’m proud of you for doing what you thought was the right thing. But,” Jack cleared his throat, dreading the conversation he was about to start, “when Mr. Hernandez called me, he said that it took two teachers to pull you and Donnie apart. That you wouldn’t let him go and didn’t want to stop fighting. I think there’s more happening here than just you standing up for Bozer.” 

Mac had unscrewed the pen in his hands and was straightening the tiny spring from inside between his thumb and forefinger. He looked away and answered in a small voice. “I don’t like bullies.” 

“Okay.” 

Mac had been Jack’s son officially for just over a month. They’d been in each other’s lives and had loved each other for much longer than that, but they were still working on knowing each other as family and learning how to truly communicate. Mac was still guarded and Jack was still uncertain of how best to reach him. He didn’t want to push Mac and frighten him into withdrawing, but he was sure it would be good for him to opened up talk, that if he shared some of his fears Jack would be able to help allay them. 

There were layers and layers to what had happened that day, Jack knew. Mac had been defending his friend, that was true, but that wasn’t what was making him huddle into himself, retreating from Jack as if he were afraid to be seen. He’d been quiet that morning, for the last few days really. Holding himself back from Jack and answering his questions with polite monosyllables. 

Mac felt most comfortable when he was busy and Jack reasoned that if he had something in his hands and a task to complete, he would talk more freely than if he felt confronted by Jack sitting him down on the couch and trying to coax answers from him. He made a decision and took the next turn. 

Mac looked up in confusion. “I thought we were going home?” 

“Not yet, son. I have a couple of things I need to do at the stable. I can take you home and you can wait for me there if you want.” 

“Can come with you? I can help - if you want me to - and it will be good to see the horses.” 

  


Pitchfork in hand, frame stiff with tension, Mac moved hay around near Pepper’s stall like the straw had personally offended him. Sweat darkened his hair and the collar of his shirt, and the expression he wore under his bruises was grim and unforgiving. Jack had let Mac work for almost an hour, hoping that he would burn off some of the nerves that had made him flighty and tense since being collected from school, but since he seemed determined to work himself into the ground Jack decided to call a halt. 

“Mac! Coffee time!” Jack walked over to him with a mug in each hand. “Come on, sit down for a spell, you’ve earned it.” He put a mug down on bale of hay next to Mac and sat on one opposite him, taking a sip of his drink as he watched Mac lean his pitchfork against the wall next to Pepper’s stall. Pepper put her head over her door to watch the comings and goings of the stable and Mac ignored the coffee, instead reaching to stroke his favourite horse’s muzzle. 

“Your coffee’s getting cold.” 

“Jack.” Mac’s voice was soft and sounded worn, thin and drained of colour. 

“Normally you can barely wait for the stuff to cool down before you’re chugging it.” 

“Jack.” Mac closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Pepper’s. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Jack stretched out his legs and sighed. “You’ve seen through my cunning plan then? And here I was thinking I was being all strategic about sneaking in a little one to-one time.” 

“Please, just, please can we not talk about it?” 

“I think we have to, son.” Jack sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You’re not okay. And if you’re not okay then I can’t be okay. If there’s a problem I need to know what it is before I can help you fix it.” 

Mac silently shook his head, his head bowed and his shoulders rigid. Jack ached for him. He wanted to pull Mac into his arms, but he was wound so tight that Jack feared he would flinch away from his touch and that would be painful for them both. Physical reassurance would have to wait until Jack had cracked the prickling defenses Mac had pulled around himself. He just hoped he could find to the right words to put chinks in that armour. 

“Can I ask why you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“Because it’s bad.” Mac’s hand moved over the velvety softness of Pepper’s nose. He still had his back to Jack. “The things I’ve been thinking and the way I’ve been feeling are awful and you shouldn’t have to hear them. You deserve better.” 

“I don’t want better. I’m not asking for the family-friendly, Disney Channel version of your thoughts. I just want the truth, buddy. And the truth just _is_. Just like fire is hot and ice is cold. They can hurt you but they’re not out to cause you pain, they just are what they are. Talk to me, son.” 

Silence. 

“Mac?” 

Mac shook his head, motionless apart from that tiny movement. 

“Please?” 

“I’ve been waiting for you to hurt me!” 

Jack didn’t see what happened between the moments when Mac had been silent and when he spun around roaring out his pain with his fists clenched and his eyes wild with sorrow and hurt. Between one heartbeat and the next something had broken in his son, and seeing it happen drove Jack’s breath from him in a rush as if he’d fallen into a frozen river and been impaled by the shards of ice he’d broken through. 

“See!” Mac pointed to the devastation on Jack’s face. “You’re hurt! I’ve hurt you! I know you wouldn’t ever do that, but in here,” he pounded on his chest with a closed fist, “there’s a part of me that’s waiting for you to hit me.” 

“Mac...” Jack breathed out through the anguish in his heart. 

“Don’t tell me it’s okay,” Mac threatened. 

“It’s…”

“It’s not okay!” Mac screamed, picking up his coffee cup and throwing it against the wall to shatter into pieces. Pepper gave a shocked snort and drew her head back into her stall. “It’s fucked up and it’s stupid and it’s disgusting. I hate it.” He slid down the wall beside him to sit heavily on the floor, looking defeated and more world-weary than someone his age ever should. “I hate it.” 

Jack didn’t move. In the past he’d worked with horses who’d lived with abusive owners and knew that the ones who kicked and bit were the ones who were hurting the most. He knew not to approach suffering creatures too soon, giving them space to snarl and rage until they had worked their anger out and felt safe with the person who’d stayed by their side. He had to tightly grip the bale of hay he sat on, pieces of straw digging into his palm, to steady himself enough to stay still when all he wanted to do was run to his son. 

“So you’ve been anxious,” he said in a low even voice, “and you’ve been feeling guilty about feeling anxious, so you went into school today and…” He left the sentence open, hoping Mac would fill in the gaps. 

Mac raised a knee and rested his elbow on it, shoving a hand deep into his hair. 

“I was always waiting for James to get mad at me. It didn’t matter how careful I was or how hard I tried, he would always be angry with me about something. I’d leave the house before he woke up, I’d be quiet when I was home so I didn’t disturb him and I did everything he told me to but he’d still get mad at me and…” Mac flinched, drawing back into himself. “I’m still waiting for that to happen. Every day I’m waiting and feeling like it has to happen soon but then it doesn’t, so I go on waiting and the pressure of expecting any minute for you to…” Mac impatiently brushed a tear from his cheek. “I felt like the anticipation was crushing me, like I couldn’t breathe under the weight of it and I started to want it to happen, for you to…to…” he raised his hand, drawing it back with a threatening force, “to finally get it over with. And this morning you told me to have a good day and promised we’d get pizza for dinner and I was wishing that you would just…” Mac screwed his eyes shut and turned his face away from Jack, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. 

Jack didn’t know James MacGyver’s address. He’d deliberately avoided knowing it. All he knew was that James had moved away and that was enough for Jack. He had no intention of ever contacting him. He wasn’t part of their lives. And right then Jack was grateful he’d made that decision because if he knew where James lived there would be nothing that would stop him from driving to the man’s house and making him pay for putting that look on his son’s face. For putting that heartbreak in his eyes. Jack watched Mac’s tears flow and his expression twist with self-recrimination and pain and swore that if he ever laid eyes on James MacGyver again he would make that bastard suffer. 

Jack swallowed hard against the burning lump in his throat. He couldn’t stop his own tears but he fought to shed them as silently as he could; Mac didn’t need the guilt he would undoubtedly feel if he saw that he had upset Jack. 

Mac rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. “Do you know how tectonic plates work?” 

“Yeah,” Jack replied slowly, confused by this non sequitur. “They’re big pieces of the Earth’s crust, they kind of float around on a big sea of lava and volcanos form where they bump together, right?” 

“Yes, the plates move against each other and when all that weight pushing, pressing and grinding together gets too intense, the rock cracks and lava bursts out. I was so tired of being scared and feeling guilty for being scared, it all felt like too much.” Mac sounded exhausted. “Then I saw Donnie grab Bozer and I…”

“You erupted.” 

“I’m sorry.” Mac curled up, dropped his head, covering it with his arms. “I’m sorry you were called into school. Donnie was trying to hurt Bozer, I thought he was going to hit him and I couldn’t watch that happen. I wanted it all to stop, I just got so angry.” 

Jack finally stood and walked over to his son, dropping to sit on the floor next to him and lean against him, resting his chin on the top of Mac’s head. “You went all Mount Vesuvius on Donnie’s ass.” 

“I’m so sorry.” The words were muffled by tears and the fabric of Mac’s shirt. 

Mac slumped against Jack, who gladly took his weight. The relief of finally having his son in his arms burned in Jack’s chest and thawed the ice that had been lodged under his ribs. He wrapped his arms around Mac and pulled him against his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” he heard Mac whisper again. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t hurt me but I couldn’t stop being afraid.” 

“Shhh.” Jack brushed his hand through his son’s hair in the way he knew Mac found soothing. “It’s okay. I understand.” He waited until Mac’s sobs had calmed and repeated. “I do understand.” 

He wasn’t using empty words or platitudes. He understood what Mac had been feeling, he’d been there himself. Irrationally afraid, bracing for the violence that was constantly expected but impossible to predict. He waited until Mac looked up at him with reddened eyes before continuing. 

“I found it hard when I got home from my time in the Army.” Jack sighed to himself. What had he just told Mac about the truth? That the truth didn’t aim to hurt, it just _was_. And Mac had been honest in response, painfully so, exposing a truth so raw and barbed that it cut him when he’d exposed it. So didn’t he owe Mac his own truth in return? Bare, unadorned and real in a way that would help him? “Okay, that’s the nice way of putting it, that’s how I’d tell my grandma this story. The God’s honest truth was that when I got back home from the Army I couldn’t hardly function. Everything was a struggle, I was barely managing to do all the normal things you take for granted like getting out of bed, leaving the house and driving my car. It all felt overwhelming. I was always waiting for an attack to come from somewhere. I’d prowl around my house checking that the doors and windows were locked over and over again and when I went to the store I’d watch everyone to see who there might be a threat. I once almost decked some poor guy when he reached in his jacket for his wallet because I thought he was going for a gun, and there were times when I had to just drop my shopping and leave because I couldn’t cope with all the lights and sounds and the press of people. I understand what living in a place where you don’t feel safe can do to you.” Jack held Mac a little tighter and closed his eyes, hating that he and his son shared that. “And I know what it’s like when you get somewhere where nothing will hurt you, how your brain knows it but your body is still trying to keep you alive and you find yourself doing and thinking things that don’t make any rational sense.” 

“You were in a war zone though.” Mac shook his head. “You had enemies who were armed with guns and bombs.” 

“You’ve just told me that you didn’t ever feel safe. That you were always anticipating an attack. How are those two things different?” 

Jack didn’t add, ‘And you were a child. You were young and innocent and the person hurting you was the person who should have been protecting and loving you unconditionally.’ 

Mac fell silent, thinking. Jack could practically hear cogs turning in his head. 

“But you’ve been so good to me and I thought terrible things about you, like I was accusing you of, you know.” He ducked his head, his cheeks flushing with shame. “I feel like I’ve betrayed you and I owe you more than that, you deserve better.” 

“Deserve better?” Jack fought to take the heat from his tone. He didn’t want Mac to hear his anger and think it was directed at him. Because Jack was angry. He was angry that his son had been made to suffer and was still suffering, and he was angry with himself for not seeing what Mac had been going through. He should have known that Mac would find the change in his life difficult to adjust to and that he would hide his feelings. He’d been so focused on how happy he was to finally have Mac as his own he’d missed the signs that Mac was struggling. Jack had believed that Mac was happy too, and he had been, but if he had really thought about it Jack would have realised that Mac’s old life wasn’t something he could just leave without it haunting him. “Better than what? Better than you? There’s nothing better for me than you, kiddo. I don’t need you to be perfect, I need you to be you. I love you. I will always love you. When you’re scared, angry, happy or feeling like a tectonic plate on volcano day I’ll love you.” 

Mac let out a stuttering breath and burrowed deeper into Jack’s arms. Jack felt something shift in him, the frightened tension crackling under his skin fading as he exhaled. 

“I love you too.” 

Jack kissed the blond hair tickling his cheek. “It gets better. You have to work through it but it does get better, I promise. We’ll figure it out together.” 

Pepper poked her head out of her stall and nudged Mac, snorting softly. 

“Sorry I scared you, girl.” Mac stroked the horse’s head and Pepper whinnied and nosed at Mac’s shirt pocket. He laughed, a tired huff of amusement that Jack was heartened to hear. “I don’t have any snacks to give you though.” 

“She’ll understand. She’s a very smart girl.” 

“Didn’t you call her a Godforsaken, thick-headed, stubborn donkey yesterday?” 

“I did. And she is. But she’s also smart. People can be more than one thing, horses too.” 

Pepper gave up her search for treats and went back to munching loudly on her feed. Mac rested against Jack, limp and heavy. The occasional tremor ran through him but Jack felt sure that the firestorm had passed and the fear and guilt his son had been carrying with him were crumbling into ashes. They stayed on the ground together listening to the sounds of the horses and watching dust motes drift in the sunlight. Jack hugged Mac close, wishing he could keep on doing just that forever, standing as a barrier between his son and every part of the world that had the potential to do him harm. 

Eventually Mac started to twitch restlessly. 

“Do you think you’ll be ready for pizza soon?” Jack asked. He felt that it was time to wrap up their heart to heart. At least until they needed to have it again. Revealing a truth to others was gruelling and the one Mac had let Jack see sat deep inside him in a place where his oldest hurts and greatest fears had settled. He needed time to recover and grow used to living in a new world where the name of the thing that scared him had been spoken aloud, where everything was new and honest and Jack still loved him. 

“Yes.” Mac’s voice was steady. He wriggled against Jack’s arms and Jack reluctantly opened them to let him up. “What kind are you going to order?” 

“Why are you asking?” Jack slapped a hand to his chest and pulled an affronted expression. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“Well,” Mac wrinkled his nose, “you do remember what happened last time?” 

“You ate that pizza!” Jack protested. 

“It was pizza, of course I did.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “We’ll negotiate, how about that? I’m sure between us we can find a way to make it work. Okay?” 

Mac smiled. An expression that was at once fond and exasperated, brave and fragile, open and hopeful. Jack couldn’t have loved him more. “Okay.” 

“Come on, son. Let’s go home.” 


	2. Two in the Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was only going to be a one shot but it’s taken on a life of it’s own and now there is a second chapter with a third one that’s almost finished. What can I say, I love this AU 😍
> 
> This chapter references Completely + Forever + No Matter What and The Pizza Incident by Violetvaria

In Jack’s experience if something frightening, strange or revolting was going to happen it would happen at two in the morning. His sister went into labour with both her children at that time, that was when the ants in his fifth grade science project escaped and whenever he had a stomach bug it was always at two in the morning when the intestinal high-jinks began. 

Jack rolled over in bed as he slowly rose into consciousness aware that somewhere in the house there was a ‘something’ happening. 

He and Mac had spent a quiet evening at home. They’d ordered a pizza, bickering in a good natured way about whether or not to have pineapple on it. Jack had insisted that fruit didn’t belong on a pizza but Mac pointed out that tomatoes were technically a fruit, and a pizza without any of them on would be a sad thing indeed. 

“Yeah, but tomatoes go in savoury stuff. They’re not meant to go in smoothies or anything like that. They’re not like pineapples or watermelons. You wouldn’t put watermelon on a pizza.” 

“Watermelons are a berry.” Mac laughed at Jack’s look of incredulity. 

“Let’s just order you a pineapple pizza before this conversation goes completely loco and you tell me that avocados are actually a type of red meat.” 

Mac pulled a face. “You don’t want avocado on the pizza do you?” 

“What? No!” Jack threw up his hands, “I can’t think of anything worse to have on a pizza!” 

“I can.” 

Jack let out a melodramatic sigh. “I’m never going to live that calamari calamity down am I?” 

“Maybe,” Mac hummed, “maybe not.” 

  


They watched a movie where a ruggedly handsome FBI agent solved a crime with an attractive forensics scientist that neither Jack nor Mac paid any attention to, both of them leaning comfortably into their side of the sofa with their legs stretched out in front of them. Mac’s feet were tipped to the side to rest against Jack’s calf, and Jack smiled at how his son could always find a way to make a physical connection with him, usually with a small gesture that held more meaning than anyone but the two of them would understand. After the movie finished Mac had gone to bed, exhausted by the emotional upheavals of the day. 

Jack had checked on him and after he was certain that his son was sleeping soundly under a mound of rumbled duvet he went into his bathroom, turned on the cold tap in the sink and held onto the sides of the basin with both hands, his head bowed. He focused on the cool porcelain under his palms and the sound of the water rushing and breathed slowly and deliberately. He hadn’t wanted to fall apart while Mac could witness his pain - he needed to be strong for his son - but now that Mac was safely tucked up in his room every feeling Jack had been pushing aside made itself known. 

Anger and a deep, heart-breaking sorrow overcame Jack and he didn’t fight his tears. 

Jack hadn’t been sure if he would be able to sleep but after he climbed into bed he very quickly fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. 

Until two in the morning. 

He pushed back his covers and sat up, listening carefully. He couldn’t hear any sounds of distress or panic, Mac wasn’t sick or crying out for him, and Jack couldn’t hear any signs that his home had been invaded by burglars so he didn’t need to jump up and defend his son. 

Still, there was definitely a ‘something’. Jack’s instincts tingled with it. 

Jack kicked his covers off and pulled a Dallas Cowboy’s hoodie over his pyjamas then walked with bare feet to Mac’s bedroom. The room was dark but Jack could see by the light filtering through the closed curtains that the duvet had been shoved to the end of the mattress and the bed was empty. He tried the lounge next and found Mac sat cross legged on the couch, swathed in one of Jack’s old sweatshirts, his Swiss Army Knife in one hand and Jack’s dad’s broken ham radio in the other. 

“I’ve been meaning to show you that old thing,” Jack said to announce his presence as he walked in the room. 

Mac looked up with a start, every bit of him – from the top of his sleep tousled head to the bare toes Jack could see peeking out of his pyjama bottoms – flinched at Jack’s unexpected appearance. 

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Mac asked with wide, worried eyes. 

“No, buddy, don’t worry, you didn’t.” Jack dropped heavily onto the couch beside Mac, “That radio has been sitting in the garage for years but I could never bring myself to throw it away.” 

“I hope it’s okay that I brought it in the house, I didn’t think you’d mind me looking at it.” 

“It would be awesome if you could fix it, my old man loved that thing, and if you can’t fix it I’m sure you can figure out something else to do with all those old parts. Anything has to be better than it just sitting on a shelf gathering dust.” Jack watched Mac methodically loosen a screw from the metal cover and place it on the table in front of him. “Trouble sleeping?” he asked. 

Mac shrugged. “I fell asleep straight away but then woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I was just lying in bed thinking, so I decided to get up for a while.” 

Jack watched Mac carefully and deliberately remove screws and stand them on the table. In the dim light of the lounge his eyes looked sunken and shadowed, the blackened one sore and tender. Outwardly he looked calm but something in the tightness of his jaw and precise grip he had on the screwdriver in his hand hinted at lots going on under the surface. Jack stretched out his arm to lay it along the back on the couch in a move he hoped looked casual, placing a hand near Mac where it wasn’t making contact with him but was close enough to offer the promise of a comforting touch. 

“Are you worried about going back to school next week?” Jack asked. “Do you think that Donnie kid is going to give you any trouble? Because if you do I could…”

“What are you going to do, Jack?” Mac tipped his head to the side and regarded Jack with a fond smile. “Follow me around between classes like a bodyguard?” 

I’ll go that kid’s house, Jack thought, pound on his door and yell until I’m sure Donnie knows that if he so much as looks at Mac with ill intent… “I’ll go and talk to your principal.” Jack blinked innocently. “What makes you think I’d do something irrational like follow you around constantly so I can be 110% certain that nothing can or will ever hurt you again?” 

“I’ve met you.” Mac grinned. “I know what you’re like. And you can never be 110% certain of anything, it’s a mathematical impossibility, you can’t get more than 100%.”

“That’s the only percentage I’ll accept when it comes to you being happy and safe.” Jack replied and Mac flushed and ducked his head. 

“Bozer’s been texting me,” Mac said, “he’s told everyone what happened between me and Donnie, and being Bozer he probably embellished the story into some big, dramatic clash of Titans. He said that nobody likes Donnie, they all think he’s a moron for calling Bozer, you know, what he called him, and that everyone thinks me standing up to him was really cool.” 

“So you’re a hero at school now!” Jack crowed, ruffling Mac’s hair. “My son the folk hero, just like Robin Hood. Except without the tights and a bow and arrow.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Mac shuffled self-consciously, “but everyone’s on my side and Donnie can’t fight everyone so I don’t think there’ll be any trouble.” 

“Good. How are your war wounds?” Jack nodded at the bruises on Mac’s face. “Do they hurt? Do you need some ice or a painkiller?” 

“They’re okay. They ache a little but it’s not too bad.” Mac stretched out the fingers of his free hand, looking down at his bruised knuckles. A flicker of emotion passed over his face, leaving furrows between his eyes. Jack held his breath in anticipation, wondering if Mac would share the thought that put that haunted expression on his face and with it the reason the two of them were up way before dawn. “Hitting someone hurts.” Mac’s voice was soft, little more than a whisper, “I didn’t know it would hurt that much.” 

Jack watched Mac stare down at the marks that violence had put on his hands and wondered how to answer. 

“I was in one fight when I was a kid,” he said. “It was caused by bull-headedness and misplaced pride with me and the other boy being too macho to back down over something I can’t even remember. I ached for days afterwards and my mom was angry, surprised, disappointed and I think she managed to invent some brand new emotions to feel just to make me extra guilty.” He chuckled dryly at the memory of his young, dumb teenage self getting caught up in the heat of a foolish moment and how bitterly he regretted it afterwards in the face of his parent’s disapproval. “I never understood why people like Donnie would go looking for that kind of trouble.” 

“Yeah, I mean, why would anyone want to hit someone?” 

Jack saw Mac’s eyes lose focus and witnessed the depths of pain behind them. 

He was torn about wanting to know what happened in Mac’s past. Part of Jack wanted Mac to share his truths about life with his biological father so he could help him carry the weight of them, sharing the burden so Mac didn’t carry the memories alone where they could fester inside him. That part of Jack hated not knowing what had happened to Mac, it imagined horrors that he felt only knowing the truth could banish. Another part of him couldn’t bear to hear stories of when Mac lived with James, the realities of what his son had gone through in his old life broke his heart. 

Mac gave away more of his past than he was aware of with his reactions. He would baulk when Jack approached him unexpectedly, flinch if Jack made a sudden movement and sometimes in those situations one arm would give a small abortive jerk as if Mac had curbed the impulse to throw it up in front of his face in defence. 

“I don’t really have an answer to that question, son.” Jack had stood in battles and war zones and contemplated it; and that morning months ago in his office when Mac had ran to him from James’ rage Jack had wondered why, _why_ , anyone would chose to hurt another person. “Some people are scared, some people have been hurt themselves, some are angry, some are just wired wrong and some people are a fun combination of all those things along with some other things beside. I don’t know if anyone really knows why people do the things they do.” 

Mac nodded once, taking that in. Jack didn’t know if he had given Mac a satisfactory answer but he didn’t think there was a satisfactory answer to that question. Certainly not one that would appease Mac’s quick mind and kind nature. 

“Jack,” Mac bit his lip and adjusted his grip on the screwdriver in his hand, “how come you…” he carefully placed a screw next to the others standing in an orderly line on the table, “why aren’t you angrier with me?” 

“You think I should be angrier with you? About what happened at school?” Jack kept his tone neutral and calm, giving Mac the chance to lead the conversation so he could follow it to where what was troubling Mac lay. 

“Well, yes, about the fight and stuff. It’s just that, if James had been called and had to come into the school to see the principal because I’d been fighting he would have…” Mac focused on removing the chipped metal cover from the radio, avoiding Jack’s eye. 

Ah, Jack thought, of course. He took a moment to let go of the tension he could feel traveling through his body like an electric current. He wanted to show a calm front so Mac would feel safe opening up to him. “It’s like we talked about, I don’t like that you were fighting but I understand that you were defending a friend, and that what happened today was about more than just one of your classmates being a bully.” 

“But-”

“Would me yelling at you have helped the situation?” Jack reasoned. 

Mac shook head. 

“Me screaming and raging at you, sending you to your room and grounding you for the rest of the year wasn’t what you needed. You’re not going to make a habit of getting into dust ups are you?” Mac shook his head again. “So punishing you wasn’t what the circumstances called for.” 

“But-” Mac insisted, “I messed up. I did something really bad. It was bad and stupid and I…” he rubbed his nose with back of wrist and Jack saw the calm he’d been finding in the ritual of taking the radio apart fracture; his chest hitched with short, quick breaths and his words tumbled over one another in his haste to be rid of them. “James used to say that I made stupid mistakes and that I should know better, and that I didn’t think and I didn’t learn, and that he sometimes thought that the only way he could ever make me understand was to use his belt, and -”

“Did he ever…? Jack asked before he knew he was going to. Please say no, he thought, please say it was an empty threat, please, please tell me that… 

“Once.” The word was carried in a breath, soft and quiet. “It hurt.” 

Jack thought that if he stayed very still and very quiet he could wait out the rage, disgust and devastation boiling through his gut. Mac had told him about tectonic plates and how he’d felt like the pressure that forces molten rock through the Earth’s mantle was building inside him, and in that moment Jack understood how he’d felt. He thought about the time he’d noticed unusual bruises on one of Mac’s forearms and when he’d asked about them Mac had said he’d got them in gym class, Jack had made a joke about how dodge ball must be different from how it’d been in his day and asked Mac to fix the latch on Pepper’s stall again. He thought about if he could ever do enough to make up for that time in Mac’s life, if he could ever be enough to sway the balance of Mac’s childhood from abuse to affection. And he thought about how his son was sat opposite him, bruised but safe and mostly well, and how he would spend the rest of his life trying to let him know how loved and special he was. 

“The fight you were in,” Jack said when he felt able to speak again, “didn’t break out because you were bad or stupid, it started because you were hurting and we’re both going to work at making sure that things don’t get like that again. Is that why we’re sat here in our pyjamas before the birds are up?” He asked, gesturing to the room lit by the glow of the lamp beside the couch. “Because you’re thinking about the way things used to be, worried that I haven’t been angry enough yet and scared that I’m going to suddenly become furious with you?” 

Mac nodded. “It’s like there’s an argument happening in my head and I can’t sleep though all the noise.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help turn the volume down?” Jack reached towards Mac and brushed the fingers of his right hand through his hair. Mac leaned into the touch, his eyes flicking closed for a long moment. 

“I think you’re doing it.” 

Jack had to pause to clear the emotion from his throat before he could speak, “I’m sorry that what James did happened. It should never have happened to you.” 

“But it did.” Mac turned the radio over in his hands. “But,” he looked up and met Jack’s eye, “it’s not going to happen again.” 

He sounded certain, like he might actually know what he’d said about Jack never hurting him was true. Jack felt some of the scolding weight in his chest lift. 

Jack shuffled forwards to be closer to Mac and resting a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing back and forth gently with his thumb. Mac shuddered under his touch. “Completely, forever and no matter what, remember?” Jack muttered as he pressed a kiss to the top of Mac’s head. 

“Completely, forever and no matter what.” Mac replied. 

“That’s right,” said Jack, “even in the middle of the night.” He pulled Mac to him, settling him in his arms. 

In Jack’s experience if something frightening, strange or revolting was going to happen it would happen at two in the morning. That was when the sprinkler system in his college dorm room had malfunctioned, when he’d run out of gas on his first ever attempt at a road trip and when his mom had woken him and told him his grandma had fallen ill and needed to be taken to the hospital. 

2am was, in his opinion, not to be trusted. But sometimes, if you listened carefully and loved without limits, he thought as Mac turned the dial on the radio and a voice came through the speaker loud and clear, there were good things to be found. 


	3. Black and Blue, Old and New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive, massive thanks to everyone who have left comments and kudos on this story, I really, really appreciate it.
> 
> Please note that I’ve added ‘bullying’ to the tags.

Being a folk hero wasn’t too bad, at first. 

Kids at school nodded at Mac and said ‘hi’, and Tia Wickham - cheerleader and popular girl, who had never acknowledged his existence before - smiled at him in a way that made Bozer nudge him in the ribs. 

“But,” Mac had explained as he and Jack sat in front of the TV the evening after his third day back at school, “it’s all kind of false. They’re not really interested in me, they just want to talk to me because everyone else wants to talk to me, like they’re hoping for reflected glory or something. It makes me uncomfortable.” 

Jack had laughed and shook his head. “People like to be where the action is at, and you did stand up to a bully when no one else has before. Don’t worry, your moment in the spotlight won’t last too long, something else will come along soon and take up all your classmate’s attention.” 

His notoriety had started to dwindle a little when a rumour started running around the school that the Home Economics teacher and the school secretary were having an illicit love affair. Witnesses of long, lingering looks over the reception desk came forward, and there were claims that both members of staff had been seen entering the stationery cupboard at the start of one class and were not seen again until the end of the lunch break. Mac’s classmate’s attention was drawn away from him and he was grateful. 

Then Donnie’s suspension ended and he came back to school. 

Mac was stood in an empty hallway putting his chemistry books back into his locker and looking for his English homework when a blow between his shoulder blades forced him painfully into the wall of metal doors in front of him

His forearm was grasped in a strong hand and twisted up and behind his back and another hand clamped down over his mouth. Mac hissed in shock as the muscles in his arm and shoulder flared with pain at the unnatural movement.

“My parents had to have a meeting with the principle and the guidance counselor.” Donnie snarled in his ear, “I have to go to anger management classes because of you. It’s going on my permanent record because you couldn’t keep you stupid, pathetic mouth shut.” 

Mac bucked and tried to squirm out of Donnie’s grip but the larger boy used his greater height and weight against him, holding him against his locker with bulk of his body, and Mac couldn’t get free. 

“You’re going to be sorry.” Donnie leaned closer and Mac felt the warmth of his breath against his cheek, “I’m going to make you sorry. You’re nothing but a worthless little science freak who’s own parents didn’t want him and...” 

“Hey!” Riley’s shout echoed down the hallway. “You need to take your hands off my friend.” 

Mac felt Donnie turn around to look over his shoulder at where Riley’s voice had come from. Donnie scoffed, “What are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to kick your ass.” 

“You are?” 

“We are.” Bozer’s voice joined Riley’s. “There’s two of us and you won’t be able to sneak up on us and sucker punch us from behind.” 

The grip on Mac’s arm was unrelenting and his arm and shoulder were throbbing. Donnie twisted Mac’s arm again and he gave a muffled cry of pain. 

“Let him go now.” Riley warned

“Or what will you do, girlie girl, come at me with your...?” 

There was a thud of impact and Mac sagged as the hold pinning him against the locker vanished. He turned round to find Donnie clutching his jaw, his face contorted with incomprehension, and Riley swinging her rucksack back up onto her shoulder with cold determination etched on her features. 

“What the hell…?” Donnie squeaked. 

“I did warn you.” Riley ground out. 

“Stay away from us.” Bozer stepped forward. “We know what you are, we all know what you are,” he gestured to the dozen or so other students who had gathered around to watch the confrontation, “and we aren’t interesting in your particular brand of lame, ignorant bullying anymore.” 

Donnie looked around, taking in Riley and Bozer’s resolute stances and the hard, judgmental stares of the other kids in the hall. He could see in those glares that the mood wasn’t with him, that he had been defeated and he was outmanned. He raised his chin and set his jaw in a stubborn line. 

“Whatever.” 

He gave Mac a final hard stare - diminished somewhat by the fact that his lower lip was wobbling slightly - and stalked away with a poor show of nonchalance. 

“Are you okay?” Bozer and Riley rushed to Mac’s side as soon as Donnie sloped away. “Your arm?” Riley asked as Mac carefully moved and stretched the arm Donnie had been holding to try and ease his aching muscles, “Is it all right?” 

“It’s fine.” Mac breathed through the pain and the little trembling aftershocks the sudden attack had left running through him. He suspected his arm would be tender for a few days but the pain would soon ease. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you hear that?” Riley dropped her backpack onto the floor where it landed with a resounding thunk. “That was the sound of me kicking Donnie’s ass!” 

“My God, what have you got in that bag Riley?” Bozer asked. “Bricks?” 

“My biology textbook, my Spanish textbook, my Humanities folder and my laptop.” Riley listed, grinning. 

“I’m amazed Donnie has any teeth left!” Mac nudged the rucksack with his foot. “Why are you carrying all that around with you?” 

“Well, I was about to put some of it in my locker. Which is a good thing because it meant that I found you and Donnie.” 

“Yeah, thank you.” Mac said. “Thank you for helping me. I didn’t see him coming.” 

“I kind of owed you one” Bozer said, “it’s like how Han Solo rescues Luke Skywalker from freezing to death on Hoth and then Luke rescues Han from Jabba the Hutt. Are you sure you're okay?” he asked, peering into Mac’s face. 

“I’m fine. It’ll be sore later, it’s actually kind of sore now,” Mac moved and twisted his arm, cringing as the aching muscles flexed, “but I’ll be okay.” 

“If you’re sure.” Bozer said, looking doubtful. “I’ll tell you what, it’s time we were in Shop class, let’s go, you can have fun and forget about your arm by being the best in the class at everything and the teacher’s favourite student.” 

They waited while Riley shoved some of her books into her locker then pulled her backpack onto her shoulder, “How is that carburetor coming along anyway, Bozer?” she asked as they started walking down the hall towards their classes

“I can tell you that it’s definitely coming along.” Bozer nodded sagely. “For further detail please speak to Mac.” 

“Mac, how’s the carburetor coming along?” 

“It’s coming along.” Mac he felt his tremors slow down to nothing as he fell into step with his friends. Donnie was gone and Mac’s friends were right beside him, maybe everything would be okay now. 

“See?” Bozer beamed a large confident grin. “I’ve got the whole thing under control. Come on, man” 

Bozer put a hand on Mac’s shoulder and left in there so Mac could feel it’s warm, steady weight all the way to class. 

  


“You know, when I decided to run a stable I imagine myself spending all day with the horses, riding them, grooming them, teaching other people how to ride and respect them. I didn’t see myself counting boxes of saddle soap.” 

“Really, this isn’t what you dreamed of when you decided to open your own business?” Mac joked, pointed to the boxes and bags they’d been auditing. They needed to place an order for supplies and Jack had reluctantly decided that he needed to do a review of what they already had. 

“You may find this hard to believe, but no. I saw myself helping grateful ladies down from their steeds,” he held up his hand like a knight of old helping a fair maiden down from her mount, “not writing a list with things like ‘twelve bags of oats’ on.” 

“Twelve and a half.” Mad said, “I found an open bag under those sacks.” 

“Twelve and a half.” Jack repeated as he made the change to the list in his hand. “See, this can be fun, we can make it like Hide and Seek with a bunch of stuff!” he winked at Mac and threw the list onto the sacks across from him. “I call dibs, it’s my turn. I’ll count to ten and you go and find the louse powder. One…two…three…”

Mac, warm from moving sacks of feed around, pushed the sleeves of his shirt up above his elbows. 

Jack froze. “What’s that?” He pointed to the bruises Donnie’s grip had left on Mac’s forearm. 

“What?” Mac looked down to where Jack was pointing. He hadn’t thought about the marks being there. The place on his arm where Donnie had grabbed him had been left with a purple hand-shaped contusion. “Oh,” Mac said, trying to sound casual. “I had a run in with Donnie at school a couple of days ago.” 

“A run in? What happened?” Jack’s voice was cold. All the humor vanished from his face. 

“He grabbed my arm. It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing, Mac. That is the exact opposite of nothing. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I just…” Mac was confused, thrown by Jack’s vehemence. “I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was important.” 

“If you get hurt I need to know.” Jack looked resolute. Angry. Mac felt anxiety twist in his chest. “Why have you been hiding those bruises?” 

“I haven’t.” 

“You haven’t been wearing long sleeves to cover them?” 

“No! The weather has been too cold to wear just a T shirt, that’s all. It’s not a problem.” Jack was never demanding like that with Mac, or that confrontational. A tiny seed of fear settled in Mac’s stomach. 

“That,” Jack slipped a hand under Mac’s wrist to raise his bruised arm, “is a problem. Why did you lie about them, did Donnie threaten you?” 

“I didn’t lie!” Mac protested. He drew his arm out of Jack’s hand, hurt by the accusation. 

“You didn’t tell me the truth about what happened. Isn’t that what they call a lie of omission?” 

“I didn’t lie! I didn’t want to worry you. It’s all over between me and Donnie, he hasn’t been near me, Bozer or Riley since it happened.” Maybe he should have told Jack about what happened. He really should have told Jack about what happened. But Mac hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Jack would have worried, felt bad that he hadn’t done something to prevent it, then called the school and Mac didn’t want any more fuss or attention. As far as Mac was concerned the whole situation was over and he didn’t want it dragging up again. He hadn’t liked being looked at and talked about, he’d wanted everything to go back to normal.

Jack gritted his jaw and shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eye narrowed and steely. “I’m going to call the principle.” He nodded decisively. “She needs to know about this.” 

“No!” Mac had never seen Jack so worked up, he was usually calm and in control, even when he was upset. It scared him. “That will just make things worse. It’s all over now, it’s done, if you call Dr Albright you’ll just stir everything up again.” Mac plucked at the sleeve of Jack’s shirt with anxious fingers. “Please just let it go.” 

“Are there any more bruises?” Jack took a step closer to Mac, crowding into his personal space. “Did Donnie hurt you anywhere else?” 

He looked Mac up and down then grabbed his face, a palm on each side of his head, tilting it from side to side, his thumbs under Mac’s chin pushing his head back and up so he could examine him from every angle. 

Mac pulled out of Jack’s grip, jerking away from the restrictive hold. “What are you doing?” 

Jack ignored his protest and stepped towards him again. “Are there any more marks on your arms?” He took hold of Mac’s shoulders with both hands. 

Mac tried to pull away but Jack wouldn’t let go of him. 

“Jack, what you are doing?” 

“I need to check that you’re okay.” He palpitating Mac’s shoulders looking for injuries. 

“There’s nothing there.” Mac tried to squirm out of Jack’s hold and Jack tightened his grip. 

“Mac!” Jack snapped his name as a harsh commend. “Let me look!” 

The fear in Mac’s belly grew, the ungentle, unwanted hands on him making his heart pound. 

Jack squeezed Mac’s arms, rough in his urgency. 

“Jack, stop.” 

“I have to know if you’re hurt.” Jack growled, gripping both of Mac’s wrists in his hands. 

“Jack.” Mac’s fear had been joined by panic and a desperate need to get away. He felt confined, pinned, helpless against the anger of someone stronger than him. 

When Jack’s grasp reached the bruise on his forearm the pressure on it was a dull throb that made Mac gasp. 

“Stop!” Mac reared back, trying to pulling himself out of Jack’s grasp. 

“No!” Jack roared, fisting his hands in Mac’s shirt, jerking him forwards. “I’m supposed to take care of you!” Jack’s hand shook as he yelled, fury hot and livid on his face. 

Shocked, terrified, Mac wrenched himself from Jack’s hold and lurched away. He frantically scrambled backwards until his back thudded against the wall behind him. He drew his arms up in front of him, hands in front of his face, muscles tense and ready to curl him into a protective ball. He was frozen in place. Petrified. Pushing back against the wooden wall as if he was still trying to get as far away from Jack’s anger as he could. 

Jack took a step forwards. 

Mac flinched. 

And Jack’s expression crumbled. The rage fell from his face leaving devastation behind. He sank with weak knees to sit heavily on a stack of boxes behind him. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” folding into himself, his voice a wreck of pain and regret. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.” 

Mac’s breathing was quick and broken and his heart pounded in his throat. He stayed still, waiting the moment out. 

Jack dragged his hands down his face, his palms rasped against the stubble on his jaw. He let out a bitter, humourless laugh, “I’m supposed to take care of you and…” He looked over to where Mac was cowering and shook his head in self-disgust. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wanted to know if you were hurt so I could…after all those other times when I should have…” his breath hitched like he was fighting a sob and he swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. “There were all those times that you arrived here with bruises on your skin, I’d ask what happened and you’d say they were because of an accident or from playing sports and I’d just make a joke and let you change the subject. All those times, Mac. He was hurting you and I didn’t do anything to protect you. All those bruises - all the bruises I could see, all the ones under your clothes that I couldn’t…you were hurting and I did nothing.” 

His shoulders slumped and his head dropped into his hands, remorse sitting heavy on him and Mac could see the weight of it breaking him. 

Mac’s heart was still pounding and his body still shook but Jack was suffering and knowing that cut through Mac’s reflexive fear. “You didn’t do nothing.” Mac stood a little straighter, no longer pushing himself into the wall behind him. “I didn’t hurt when I was with you.” 

Jack raised his head. “I’m sorry I scared you. I wasn’t angry with you. I was scared for you and mad at myself,” he stood and made a move to step towards to Mac, “Mac, I-” but he wavered, unsure if he would be rejected, not sure if he had lost the right to be close to him. 

Mac moved forward. The movement was hesitant, it hurt to push through his instinct to remain huddled for safety, but it felt like the right thing to do. He gathered his will and took a step towards Jack, opening his arms. 

Jack stepped into Mac’s arms, pulling Mac to him and crushing him in an embrace. 

“I’m so sorry, son.” 

The hug was too tight and too desperate to be called soothing. It wasn’t tender but it was real and honest. 

“I know, it’s okay.” 

Mac felt something in the air settle around him in the midst of the embrace, like the cooling tick of lava solidifying to form a new and fertile landscape. Something had happened in his awareness of his and Jack’s relationship, something in his understanding had grown and matured. 

They were a family, he realised, they really, really were. They weren’t just playing House with Jack in the role of A Dad and Mac acting as a Dutiful Son. They were as messy and as complicated as any other family, with both of them getting things wrong and trying to make things right. 

“I love the bones of you, son.” Jack muttered into Mac’s shoulder. He pulled back a little so he could look down at Mac with red eyes and wet lashes. 

“I love you too, Jack. All the parts of you, right down to your quarks.” 

Jack’s forehead creased. “Are they the little, itty, bitty bits of stuff that atoms are made of?” 

“They are.” 

“Well okay then, I’ll take that.” Jack’s gave flickered over Mac’s face, calculating and assessing. “Are you really okay?” He asked. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” 

“I’m fine, honestly.” 

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?” 

“I would. I will. I’ll try to.” 

“That’s all I can ask for. You try and I’ll try and we’ll make this work.” Jack looked down at Mac’s arm and the finger shaped bruises marking it. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what happened.” Mac said. “I just wanted it all to be over.” 

“Do you really think it is over now between you and Donnie?” 

“I do.” He and Donnie had avoided each other since their confrontation in the hallway. Donnie’s reign as the resident bully had faltered, the teachers were watching him and the other students knew that he had a weakness and wasn’t as tough and untouchable as he claimed. 

“Did you kick Donnie’s ass again?” 

“Riley did.” 

“Riley!” 

“She’s hardcore, don’t ever make her angry.” 

“I’ll remember that, thanks for the tip.” 

Jack pulled Mac into another hug, this one gentler than the last. Mac tightened his hold, feeling like he was the holding Jack rather than the other way around. He was tempted to glance at his watch and make a note of the hour because right then, that moment, was the first time he’d found himself actively caring for Jack. Mac had always cared for Jack, of course, but he’d never really _taken_ care of him until then. 

It felt good. 

Feeling needed was like feeling wanted. Which was like feeling loved. 

And that was like, Mac put his cheek on Jack’s shoulder and Jack responded by resting his forehead against Mac’s, that felt like everything. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Pizza Incident](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840225) by [violetvaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria)




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